bravo_six (bravo_six) wrote in birthrightrpg, @ 2020-09-23 16:31:00 |
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Entry tags: | hanna pulaski |
Sometimes
Sometimes I think about Riley.
Sometimes I think about Butch.
Sometimes I think about Nora.
Mostly, though, it's Riley. He's the one who's still with me.
Butch was in his early forties, and his dad served in Vietnam. He joined the Guard because his whole family was military in one way or another. I don't think I ever heard his real name, or maybe it was on his birth certificate. Butch Pritchard. One of those big jolly guys whose shirt could never stay tucked in and his boots were always dirty, but he was quick with jokes and liked to make people laugh.
Nora had kids. She showed me some pictures, and then I met them at her funeral. Older kids, teenagers. Their names turned into white noise two minutes later, because I felt like I was wrapped in cotton wool and shoved into the bottom of a barrel. I think they wondered why some stranger was at their mom's burial, but no one asked. I asked her once why she'd signed up, and she smiled and said, 'I'm old, girl, I'm not dead.'
Sometimes I hear it when I'm asleep.
But Riley? Yeah, Riley's still kicking around. We were the closest in age, and he was raised by his grandmother in the Bronx. We traded stories about miserably hot summers and winters like something out of the Ice Age, about swimming at the Y and basketball practice and the first time we stole booze from our parents. He was a Giants fan, but I forgave him for that since he forgave me for saying Mike Ditka was the greatest coach in football history, bar none.
Sometimes I see him, and sometimes it's the way he was Before and sometimes it's the way he was Afterwards. Just a blip and then he's gone. I don't believe in ghosts. If we leave anything behind when we die, it's the memories of family and friends, the stories we give them to tell in the years that follow. But sometimes? Sometimes he's right there, close enough to touch.
I didn't get to say goodbye. To any of them. The worst things are always what's left unfinished, that there will be no more stories and no new memories. If Riley is still here somehow, maybe I'll get to say it when this is all over.
Sometimes....okay, more than sometimes, I hope so.</lj>